


Connections

by Momphos



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Character Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Urban Magic Yogs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-03 12:02:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2850179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Momphos/pseuds/Momphos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Master of lightning and an untrained technomage - KirinDave old as the Earth itself, ambitious William Strife searching for a cause. Can Strife learn to control his magic, and is it wise to trust someone as slippery as Kirin to teach him? To what end their chance friendship will take them, for better or for worse, remains to be seen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Memories of Faded days

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the start of what will most likely be a long series of chapters exploring the dynamic between Kirin and Strife. The first chapter is a background story, and each chapter will alternate between their perspectives. The writing style is very different between the two, so apologies if it throws you off.

KirinDave was old. Some rumoured he was as old as the sky itself, as much a part of the world as the trees and rocks and earth. Kirin found amusement from the hushed whispers of the younger fae, but he knew they weren’t far from the truth. He had indeed seen the birth of mountains, the fall of continents, the endless life cycles of creation and destruction. He was amongst the first to walk amongst the endless forests of days gone by, only remembered from myths and poets spilling forth their enchanted words of times when the old magic thrived and existed in every creature as deeply connected as the oxygen they breathed. Their writings had long since been disregarded as a fantasy to be admired only by children, but Kirin knew better. He had lived through their tales, as much a history of the world as his own timeline.

There used to be many of his kind roaming the earth, connected to one another through the intricate web of magic entwined through nature. Conversations, exchanges, thoughts all passed freely to one another like leaves on a breeze, preserving the tales and combined knowledge of his powerful people. Although they were just as likely to wreak havoc upon the world as they were to help it grow, there was harmony within the balance of life and death. Each fae possessed an affinity for different aspects of magic, drawn to it like moths to a flame.

Kirin was no different - from a young age he had always been drawn to the awe of thunderstorms rolling above, lighting the dark skies with blinding streaks of pure energy. When most would cower at the destructive force, he would stand atop trees arms outstretched, allowing the charged static in the air to make his hair stand on end and dance around his antlers amidst the pouring rain pounding against his skin. The wind would whip around his form threatening to tear him apart, but he gave himself over to the force of nature. He felt the magic seep into his skin and it caused his eyes to glow a piercing blue, as wild and unpredictable as a lightning strike, illuminating the inky blackness of the swirling storm.

Like the others he too learned how to control his affinity, felt it flow through his veins as part of him as blood and bone. He was as much the master as he was the servant, nothing more than a vessel yet at the same time wielder of storms powerful enough to blacken the skies and drown the earth below at his whim. The lightening understood him and he in turn understood the lightening, how it was also a life bringer, helping to fertilise the ground so new life could be born. The cycles of life and death continued endlessly, helped by the fae who tended for the world as if it was their child.

The earth grew older, new species came and went, and the fae overlooked the changes with a curious eye. Sometimes they would observe creatures tapping into the magic that flowed around them; Kirin had witnessed the creation of the manticore, the unicorn, the sphinx, and countless others as he watched on with an amused smile. They never seemed to be able to connect on the same level as his kind, but maybe that was a good thing Kirin mused. All this power was destructive in the wrong hands, and these creatures seemed…violent. Prone to attacking one another with little provocation. At least they understood true feral power when the fae were close, cowering under their might, sensible enough not to dare challenge them. Kirin chuckled to himself, if only all creatures were so smart.

He remembered when humans first started to walk the earth, so fragile and weak. But soon they grew and learned, harnessed what was available to them and began to build vast communities. He had always been intrigued by them; often walking amongst them hidden by glamour spells to hide his fae appearance. They still were wary of him, as if some subconscious part of them could sense he was not like them, he was something…more. He was larger in stature, towering over the majority easily, and his eyes always seemed too bright a shade of blue to be natural. All it took was a warm smile however and they would feel more at ease, allowing him to take part in their activities. His magic easily allowed him to learn their tongue, and whilst it seemed cruder and less eloquent than his own he found it had a sort of rustic charm to it.

They seemed to possess little knowledge of magic he noted, or if they knew of it they gave it little thought. Yet some he could tell were more in tune than others, the prickles of their magics foreign against his skin. He felt drawn to them, wanted to understand them, to help kindle their abilities so they could become one with it. One human in particular caught his eye, her body seemingly brimming with potential magic. Her fellow kind regarded her as some sort of shaman, her knowledge of the local plant life allowing her to create concoctions to heal or damage those around her. Kirin couldn’t resist such a promising challenge, and so began to slowly nudge her in the right direction to unlocking her power, as gently as if she were a wild animal.

They called her Su, and Kirin liked how the word rolled around his mouth, as soft as a sleep incantation. She appreciated his company, and soon he was spending more time with her than his own kind. The other fae seemed not to mind; they understood the pull of curiosity and listened with knowing smiles when he told them of his work. He became enchanted with her skill and her beauty, finding himself feeling an emotion the humans called ‘love’. Kirin found the word too basic to explain how her presence made him feel. She was the moon to his sky, the warm summer breeze that caressed his face, the freshness of raindrops falling in a storm. Under his guidance she harnessed all her potential, even extending her gift so that others like her could learn. And so witches and mages were born, the talent slowly spreading to those that heard its calling.  
Years passed by blissfully and Kirin observed how his mortal lover aged, affected by time in a way he was not. The other fae were more distant these days, as if too absorbed in their affinities to be aware of the world around them. Kirin paid the fact little heed, until he noticed that he could no longer feel the thoughts of some of his kind carried to him on the wind. Leaving Su one day he ventured back out into the wilderness beyond the human civilisations to investigate, and learned how his kind were becoming one with their magics; dispersing from their vessel bodies and becoming the affinity themselves. Kirin was concerned as he made his way back to Su, soon feeling the pull to become one with lightning like the others.

He pushed the feeling away, he belonged here with his lover; he knew this in his heart. One by one, his fellow fae dispersed, leaving only the echoes of their existence thrumming in the world around him. Every lost voice caused a twinge of sadness but he tried not to dwell on it, they had found harmony and peace. He was happy where he was. This simple life was all he needed. 

It was one fateful night when Kirin learned just how dangerous a game he had been playing. A thunderstorm had rolled over the settlement, charging the skies with electricity and filling him with a refreshing blast of energy. It had been a while since the last, and he knew he couldn’t create one around the skittish humans, they disliked the storms. He found himself standing in the middle of it, embracing and allowing the power to flow through him, bringing every cell in his body to life. He let out a laugh as the lightning struck the ground around him, the loud crackling hisses music to his ears.

A shout to his left brought him out of his excitement, seeing Su resolutely standing in the rain which battered against her. His brow furrowed and he took a step towards her; it wasn’t safe for her to be under this destructive force with no shelter. She was calling out to him, something about for him to come inside with her. He smiled and moved to embrace her in his arms, to guide her back inside. That’s when it happened.

There was a flash, blinding and powerful enough to force Kirin to take a few steps back. He felt his fingers burn with the energy discharging around him, the air fizzing with static. He looked around, trying to gather his bearings, blinking away the spots in his vision. He looked down, and saw Su’s figure lying on the ground. With a cry he lunged towards her, scooping her up in his arms and flinched as lightening involuntarily struck down into her, causing her body to spasm. He let her fall back to the ground, staring in horror at his hands. Crackles of energy dancd over the fingertips, and refused to disperse no matter how hard he willed the magic away. Only when he scrambled away from her body did the sparks cease, and the realisation settled into his bones.

His affinity had been growing stronger, subtle and slowly, just like the other fae’s must have done. His body was trying to become one with lightning, and in doing so had left him unable to touch a living creature. With an anguished sob he looked over the body of his lover and wept into the storm, howling out his pains until his throat was raw and his voice hoarse. When he regained his composure, tightly locking away his emotions deep inside, he gently picked up her body with aid of a levitation spell, carefully carrying her to their home to begin honouring her in the way that was customary of her people.

The memory was painful to recall, the emotions still swirled deep within him, unresolved and eating away slowly. He had no one. The other fae had dispersed, his lover dead at his hands. He locked himself away in their old home to mourn, not interacting with another being for many centuries.

The world grew on without him, developing and becoming twisted as humans began destroying nature as if it was theirs to take and use as they saw fit. Blindly they expanded, most forgetting all the notions of magic, too wrapped up in their own lives to care. Other creatures saw the opportunity to adapt so evolved to live amongst these humans, using them for their own ends of survival. Kirin refused to move from his sanctuary of his old life, watching the birth of a city grow around him. When it became clear the house was in danger from this expansion he teleported the place deep underground, warding it with the most powerful defences he could muster. Only then did he step back outside into the world, observing this new domain before him.

It was dark and filthy, too crowded with oblivious humans and dangerous magical creatures lurking in the shadows. He knew that without intervention there would be war, and so he took it upon himself to rule this land as his own. None of the younger fae-like creatures dared challenge him, fearing his aura of power. He asked little of them, nothing more than to keep human knowledge of their existence to a minimum, and to stay away from his warded places. All save a small band of creatures who seemed to have no care for rules.

The garbage court, they called themselves. Kirin disliked the name as much as he disliked their actions. Composed of a Kelpie, Selkie, Gargoyle and human leader, they brought havoc and destruction wherever they went. Time and time again they would challenge his authority, even though both parties knew he was far more powerful. They were an irritation he would have preferred to be without, but they mostly stayed out of his way and kept their killings out of public light, so he left them alone.

And so Kirin ruled his realm. Feared by most as the most unpredictable fae in the city, he was considered the most dangerous man to make a deal with. And this was true; he did have a thing for favours he liked to collect at later dates. He lived humbly in a little plant shop in the heart of the city, a peaceful respite of greenery in the polluted heaving mass of people. He would sell his wares to humans and magic creatures alike, for whatever end they needed it. His wards firmly in place no one could tell precisely what kind of creature he was, but he felt it was best to keep it this way. Burying himself in urban life he almost forgot about his past, contenting himself to a life of rather bland dealings with the poor fools that dared to trust him.

That was, until William Strife stumbled through his plant shop one night.


	2. Old eyes, Soothing magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we have a chapter in Strife's perspective, it's a little disjointed and contains a lot of short sentences. He does have a headache after all.

The city never slept. There was always noise, a constant thrum of electricity and chatter pulsating through the power cables in the background, too subtle for most to notice. But not Strife. Unlike the blissfully oblivious masses he could sense every signal, every burst of communication buzzing in the air, as if the city itself wanted to claw into his mind and consume him whole. He gritted his teeth to the endless throbbing in his head, he would just have to get used to the pain. It was better than the alternative.

The country offered him nothing. He was a man of ambition, and although only 25 years old he yearned to achieve great things. Nothing happened in his hometown, life had been slow and sluggish. He sought the new, the exciting, anything and everything to do with technology. He knew the city was the only place for him, but the adjustment had been tough. His uncle, Xephos, had been supportive of housing him, but he could help very little in understanding what magic he possessed. He meant well, but technomancy was not his area of expertise. More infuriatingly he didn’t know of anyone who was, so Strife was resigned to work it out for himself.

He was grateful for Xephos’ hospitality, who had agreed to give him a place to stay even though his cramped house was already overflowing with people and clutter. With Xephos, his partner Honeydew and their adopted son Lalna, it was impressive room was found for him to even stand let alone live. He had graciously accepted to have the attic room, even if it was half full of boxed Christmas ornaments and photo albums. There was enough room for an old mattress and a desk for his laptop, but not much else. He bit his tongue against commenting on the inefficiency and the messy arrangement and merely smiled as he moved in. When he had been left alone he set to work carefully sorting the boxes into size order and unpacking his clothes into neat piles – he despised wasted space and disorganisation.

He silently endured living in the clutter of the rest of the house, as long as his room could be neat and tidy he could deal with it. With Lalna occupying the basement and Xephos and Honeydew with the only formal bedroom in the house, there was only the kitchen and living room to interact together anyway. Strife had grown accustomed to living within his own head, so he preferred to keep his socialising to a minimum.

Machinery had always made more sense to him than organisms. There was beauty in circuitry, cables and motherboards that didn’t seem to be seen by any of his family. He put it down to the magic he was in tune with; they just weren’t on the same wavelength as him. But he knew he couldn’t be the only technomage, there must be others somewhere that shared his abilities to connect with the artificial world. And what better place to look than a city, housing humans and magical creatures alike? Equipped with painkillers to take the pressure off the pounding headaches he was determined to learn how to harness his powers, to reach his full potential. He was convinced his magic wasn’t meant to cause him this amount of pain – Xephos never seemed adversely affected by his witchery, or Honeydew with his dwarven crafting.

It was a busy Tuesday rush hour when Strife got the first glimpse of a life without pain from his magic. Xephos needed groceries, and had also become concerned that he had been spending too much time alone in his room. Of course, he didn’t know the reason Strife had been skulking was because his headaches has worsened significantly over the past few days due to a surge of early December sales starting. Strife didn’t like to admit weakness, especially not to someone as easily flustered as his uncle. But he felt obligated to carry out these chores; he was staying free of charge after all.

The streets were crawling with people going about their business. Strife tried not to physically shy away when someone came too close, he was strong and proud, and he definitely shouldn’t be fased by something as daft as human contact. But the pulsing of the city crashed against his skull with every step, unbalancing him, making him lose focus. He had to drag himself back from his thoughts countless times, save he walk off into the alleys to never return. The power cables and radio waves called to him, chanting his name like they owned him, snatching at his mind like he was battling through thorn bushes. He couldn’t let it win; the city was dangerous and full of creatures waiting to pounce on the weak.

A sudden surge of information smashed against him as what seemed like a thousand mobiles rang in his ears, causing him to gasp for breath and stumble against the nearest wall. He blinked furiously, but his vision was distorted with lines of endless binary code racing by. He pushed back against the city, desperate to regain himself, hands scrabbling against the wall like a drowning man searching for a rock to hold onto. His fingers latched onto something cold and metal as he pushed onto it with all his weight, hearing a distant thud as he came crashing to the floor in a daze.

Then, all was quiet. The city seemed to slink back into the corners of him mind, giving him time to breathe deeply once more. His eyesight returned, and he looked around to see that he had stumbled into what appeared to be a shop. It was dimly lit with oil lamps, and wearily reaching out with his senses he felt the hum of powerful warding magic in the air around him, ending at the foot of the doorway he had just fallen through. It felt more potent than Xephos’ house charms, and significantly older. The wards must have been here for a long time, decades maybe, and were doing an efficient job of keeping him out of the city’s clutches. He could feel his muscles slowly begin to relax at the safety the wards brought him, protected from magics that wanted to claim him whole. But whatever domain he had stumbled into, Strife mused silently, he knew it must house a very powerful being.

“Can I help you?” The voice was gentle, welcoming, with the faint hint of amusement. Strife looked up and into the face of a man crouching before him. He startled before he could stop himself, trying to regain his composure. How had the man moved so silently? Strife hadn’t heard any movement since entering, his senses must have been more overstimulated than he had first realised. With a cough he sat up, standing on shaky legs as the man moved in time with him. “That’s not the most conventional way a person usually enters my shop.”

“Sorry,” Strife started, eyeing up how the man towered over him, magic thrumming all around him like a second skin. He looked young, but his eyes told a very different story when Strife’s gaze flicked up to meet his briefly. He chose his next words carefully, wary of whom this man was, or what he was capable of. “the city overwhelmed me, I fell in by accident.”

“The city?” He asked pleasantly, nothing but a small smile on his lips. Strife found it comforting, somehow. He nodded in response, turning to look around the shop for the first time. Plants of all descriptions filled the shelves, along with bottles and vials containing organic matter. Nothing in the room responded to his magic, a feeling he had not experienced in months. Whilst this made him effectively blind, robbed of a key sense, he found it soothing not being under threat from signals trying to find a way into his mind.  
When the man received no verbal answer he spoke again, the question light but somehow hanging in the air between them. “You speak as if the city is alive?”

“It speaks to me, tries to become me.” There was a movement in the air behind the stranger, a flicker of energy that vanished as soon as it had started. His expression shifted to one of curiosity, as if Strife was a puzzle that had suddenly been dropped in his lap to play with. It was faintly unnerving, but he didn’t let it show.

“Does that make you, by any chance, a technomage?” The word snapped his eyes back up to the man’s; no one ever knew the term before he explained it. He nodded eagerly, perhaps too eagerly, and received a toothy grin. “That would explain you tripping into my shop.”

“Ahh yes,” Strife coughed apologetically, offering a meek smile. “sorry again, it was a rather unflattering entrance. I was looking for a way to anchor myself and well, I found your door.” The man frowned, cocking his head to the side ever so slightly.

“You lost your anchor? That’s not very common.” He gestured to a shelf contemplatively, voice milder as if remembering old memories. “That’s like a plant forgetting how to grow roots, a skill ingrained into your very being.” Strife shifted uneasily, feeling his cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“Well ahh you see, I never really mastered anchoring. It uhhh, was kind of hard growing up around druids and witches that’d never used a phone, let alone connected with its circuitry telepathically.”

“So no one has taught you the basics of your magic?” His voice was hard to read. Disgruntled? Annoyed? Maybe a hint of personal interest? Before Strife could respond the man sighed and turned to rummage through the counter by the till, muttering to himself quietly. “What has the world gone to, leaving rare magics to go uncontrolled. No wonder they all burn out coming here, so much potential wasted.”

Strife shifted uneasily on his feet, unsure whether he was supposed to respond to the statements. He opted to wait patiently until he turned back, holding two small ceramic mugs with a steaming liquid inside. He took the one handed to him and looked up warily.

“It’s a herbal tea, for relaxation. It’ll take the edge off the headaches.” Strife frowned, how did he know about the headaches? Maybe it was an educated guess; he seemed to have some understandings of technomancy. He would have questioned but the man’s gaze was intense, waiting for him to drink. Strife obliged, taking a tentative sip and feeling the warmth seep slowly down his throat and warming his insides. It reminded him of summer days in the corn fields, the gentle breeze of the Southern winds, the cool rain before the sun set. He smiled softly, whatever magic was imbued in this tea, it was working.

“There see? It should see you back home at the least.” Strife nodded his thanks, draining the last of it with a gulp. From the corner of his eye he watched the man do the same, eyes never leaving the technomage in his presence.

“You sound like you’ve met others like me.”

“Oh, in passing. I’ve seen most kinds of magics, but yours is uncommon in the city.” He looked sympathetic as he put the mug back down on the counter. “Most can’t handle the raw amount of energy in one place. It’s quite intriguing how you’ve managed to withstand this long, especially with no formal training.” Strife shrugged, placing his mug besides the one at the counter, lining it up neatly.

“I guess I’m just lucky.” The man made an unconvinced humming sound, before sighing and moving to tidy up the counter. With a sudden jolt Strife became aware of just how long he had been here. If he didn’t get the shopping done soon Xeph would think something awful had happened to him. With the amount of worrying he already does, that was the last thing he wanted.

He coughed politely to catch the man’s attention. “I should uhh, be going. Errands to run and such.” He moved to the door, motioning to the counter. “Thank you, for the uhh, tea. Yeah. My name’s Strife, by the way. Will Strife.”

“A pleasure to meet you Will Strife, you are welcome here anytime.” Almost as if in afterthought, he added softly. “Most call me Kirin.” Strife nodded and pulled the door open, bracing himself for the pain that lurked beyond the protection of the doorway.

It was, thankfully, less intense than before. He put it down the tea, and whatever strange magic it had contained. The clawing sensation was still there, in the background of his conscious, but it was easier to repress. He mused over this strange man, Kirin, as he walked to the shops. He had seemed friendly, and had taken what seemed to be a true interest in him. And he had invited him back after all. Maybe he could teach him more about technomancy, he seemed keenly knowledgeable about anchoring, a skill he badly needed to learn.

With a shake of his head he collected the ingredients on his shopping list, thoughts always wandering back to the tall man in the shop, with his soothing magic and old eyes.


	3. Rot, Stone and Seawater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to Kirin's perspective, for the most part musing over Strife and events that have transpired between them. As for the ending, i'm sorry if it hurts your heart (it hurts mine).

The technomage had become, much to Kirin’s surprise, quite the fascination to his mind. Whether he was tending to his plants or serving a customer, the thought of Will and his curious magic was never far from the surface of his conscious. His energy had resonated on some level with his own, a feeling he had not felt since the last great thunderstorm to roll through the city, and he couldn’t help but feel wary of this potential intrusion to his guarded self.

When the young mage had stumbled through the protection charms Kirin could feel it, the tentative static radiating out and brushing against his glamours. He had, of course, subtly strengthened them – the less this stranger knew about him the better. But that static, those wary tendrils of a magic uncommon in his domain…The yearning to unlock this strange puzzle was simply too much for him to resist. Age had never quite managed to dim his burning sense of curiosity.

Kirin decided shortly after their brief encounter that he would begin to unravel the mystery that was William Strife, and so he began to make use of the many contacts he had scattered across the city to collect whatever information there was to find. He found it rather ironic that, if their positions were reversed, the technomage would have little problem finding information on himself, as all data seemed to be electronic these days. Of course, if Will DID try to find out more about him he would come up short - there is little to be learned about something older than writing, more elusive than diamond, rarer than stardust. Kirin intended to keep it that way, knowledge is and always will be power, and he planned on remaining dominant over his realm for a very long time.

His sources returned with their news quickly, fearing their fate if they were to be anything less than efficient. There was only the slightest of rumours surrounding the object of his mind; an ambitious young man having moved to the city a few weeks ago in search of grander things. Kirin found it to be so cliché, but mortals did tend to work on similar thinking patterns, regardless if they possessed magic or not. He was currently residing with a witch named Xephos, whom he knew all too well. The fae smiled to himself, he liked keeping track on that worrisome little creature and his overbearing ways. Xephos never had quite forgiven him for that little spot of bother with a curse Kirin may have been involved with. It served the little witch right, poking his nose in areas he did not belong. His smile twisted into a wicked grin as he read over the reports. Yes, he did so enjoy hearing whispers of how it was affecting him to this very day.

However, after a quick read over all the information he couldn’t find anything else of particular importance. He seemed to stay indoors mostly, and rarely was seen outside, and so no one seemed to be aware of his existence. Good, he thought to himself, with potential as great as his it’s best no one has noticed him yet. Whilst he knew hardly anyone would dare to challenge his claim upon the new mage, it was best to handle this as secretly as possible for now. The city was dangerous and full of opportunistic creatures, ready to pounce on anything of value.

Kirin’s feeling that Will would soon return to the shop proved to be correct within the week. The fascinating aura of technological magic washed over the threshold, alerting him to the arrival without having to move from tending to the sage bush at the far end of the room. He felt his lips twitch up into a smile at the sound of a hesitant cough, looking up from his work.

“Ahh, William Strife; a pleasure to see you again.” He watched the young man nod politely, picking up on the subtle tenseness of his muscles slowly ease out like silk settling down upon a table. He would find no intrusive electronics demanding his attention in here, just the warmth given off from the wooden surfaces and the soothing aromas of herbs. Strife’s nostrils flared ever so slightly as the scents entered his lungs, clearing the mind of worry and stress as Kirin knew it would. He had done this deliberately of course, manipulating certain fragrances to mask over the others, the delicate magic lacing them bringing a peace of mind scarcely found in the city. He had found over time that the more relaxed a customer was, the more open to…suggestions they were. It was all too easy, he mused to himself as he waited for the technomage to speak.

They discussed an intriguing variety of topics over a cup of tea, mostly focused on what Kirin knew about technomancy, but also of the city and of the plants growing “in such a disorganised manner” as Strife so endearingly described the layout of the shop. He seemed fixated on the neatness of his surroundings, and of efficiency, which brought a smile to Kirin’s face that almost reached his eyes. Trying to make order out of chaos, as if it helped one to gain victory over the natural law of things, seemed a common trait among mortals. He knew it was pointless, that with time everything fades back into disarray, but maybe that was his age talking. Watching the rise and fall of so many species, land masses and natural disasters he concluded, had brought with it the sense of knowing that in the end everything crumbles to dust. He had found comfort in that knowledge the last few centuries, when all he had cherished had succumbed to the inevitable end of all things.

There meetings became a regular occurrence; every Tuesday Will would arrive at precisely 12:34, a number he seemed adamant about, when Kirin would close the shop for lunch so they could discuss matters in private. The fae found he enjoyed the weekly visits, bringing with it a companionship he had long since lost. The refreshing aura of technomancy washed over his shop, fusing ever so slightly with the magics keeping his plants alive as the weeks rolled by, leaving the air with a faint fizz of electricity. In return, he could almost see the tendrils of energy creeping ever so closer to Will, trying to work their way around the barrier he had helped set in place. Not that this bothered Kirin overly, he was safer for the city when properly shielded inside his mind and that was the top priority.

It was a few weeks into their get-togethers when Will mentioned in passing something that troubled Kirin deeply. It had only been a backhanded statement about three shady looking men trying to pick him up in a car, but he noticed the warning signs immediately. He didn’t need to hear the specifics to know exactly who possessed the “freakishly large grins” that Will had described. The garbage court had somehow learned of his interest in the man, and by deduction they must also know of the magic he possessed.

He suppressed the urge to growl at the audacity of them to meddle in his affairs – it seemed as though all they wanted to do with their petty gathering of bloodthirsty creatures was break every rule set down in the city. Murdering citizens _almost_ in the open, stealing the cities protective gargoyles for their own uses, and not to mention keeping a king of misrule alive far beyond what the laws dictated. Now to take an interest in Will? It was a challenge, a provocation, and if they wanted a confrontation Kirin would indulge them, just this once. Instilling a little fear into them would be just enough of a reminder that although they may rule the alleyways, they would never have control over his domain.

He had waved Strife goodbye that day like nothing was different, providing him with a tea sample to try out when he returned home. He remained all smiles and cheer for his late afternoon customers, no sign of his inner thoughts silently scheming away. Only when darkness had fallen upon the city did he close up the shop and step out into the night air, locking onto the unique aura of rot, stone and seawater that indicated the position of his targets. He grinned to himself as he began to walk out into the lamplight; they were going to provide such lovely entertainment for him.

They had anticipated his arrival it seemed, as he approached the abandoned building they currently resided in. He could sense all four of them standing silently by the shadowed alley that lead to their threshold, a magic he could not break by brute force even if he wanted to. They had positioned themselves well; the selkie stood in the middle, flanked by his gargoyle and kelpie counterparts, standing defensively in a row. If things turned sour they could easily leap by behind their wards out of harm’s way, and Kirin had to admit it was clever.

The kelpie’s grin was savage, primal, containing all the excitement he could feel pouring off at the thought of a fight, eyes darting between his companions and his rival. The gargoyle seemed more reserved as always, watching on as still as the stone he was carved from, eyes giving little away of his feelings. He did however tighten the grip on his baseball bat as Kirin approached, tail flicking to the left silently as the moonlight reflected off its smooth surface. Baring the smug smile of a man oozing in confidence, the selkie seemed unfased by the very real threat walking towards them. With a slight tilt of his head he tracked the fae’s every move, eyes deep in calculations.

“Greetings,” Kirin spoke with a pleasant smile on his face, coming to a halt a few feet away. “A lovely night for a walk, don’t you think?”

“Not enough rain for me sunshine.” The selkie replied, teeth shining out in the darkness. Kirin gazed over the trio, noting how cowardly they acted to not bring forth their king to this meeting. Were they so afraid for his safety he couldn’t even attend a formal standoff? With a quiet chuckle he crossed his arms, finding himself not in the mood for “pointless small talk” as Will would say with an irritated huff. The technomage’s blunt ways seemed to have rubbed off on him slightly.

“You know why I am here.”

“I dunno mate, maybe something about the little pet magician you got your claws on.” The kelpie’s voice was eager and snappy, and he looked as if to carry on had a look that could freeze the sun from the selkie not stopped him dead in his tracks. Their dynamic had always intrigued Kirin; he wondered how the mutinous little seal creature managed to retain so much control over the headstrong overgrown seahorse. He made a mental note to tread carefully with this one, for he must be more than meets the eye.

“We didn’t mean no offense, he just looked cold out on the street, thought he could use a lift.” His voice was low, steady, as if each word had been planned carefully. “Can three guys not help a poor fellow out anymore?”

“Yeah, is that against your stupid rules you pri-“

“Smith.” The kelpie was abruptly cut off by the smaller man’s harsh tone, forced into silence once more. Clearly he had not been fully broken in, but that was hardly a surprise to the fae. You can take the kelpie out of the lake, but you can’t take the wild unpredictability of water out of the kelpie.

“William Strife is under my protection,” Kirin broke the glare exchanged between the two water-dwellers, bringing the focus of this discussion away from what would likely turn into a childish squabble. “And as such, I have come to remind you not to meddle in affairs that do not concern you.”

“Maybe we’ve made it our affair to keep him out of your control.” The selkie retorted as he drew up to his full height, laughably smaller than the fae’s. Kirin raised an eyebrow in amusement - _my my, they were being daring today._ Surely they knew they could never beat him, they couldn’t be that foolish. “Maybe we think he should be allowed to share his…services.”

Kirin felt his tail twitch with agitation. They had no claim over the mage; he had clearly gotten to him first. And what they planned to do with him was something he did not want to think about – chaos and disorder were the only outcomes of them using a technomage so recklessly in the city. The gargoyle seemed to pick up on the shift in emotion, looking worriedly at the selkie. At least this one possesses enough wisdom not to make this confrontation heated.

He took a step forward, allowing his magic to churn in the air around him, sucking in the light like stormclouds fit to burst with rain. His eyes glowed faintly the colour of lightning, and he could feel his glamour slip and distort around him, revealing glimpses of his true form as he grinned with teeth too sharp to be human. He watched their eyes widen with fear, tinged with panicked regret as he began to speak in a low growl.

“Listen well, rulers of the trash heaps and decaying backstreets. You are still alive because I allow it to be so. You may hold power here, cowering in your hovel like rats, but if you challenge me there is no guarantee you will survive.” He straightened up, rising to full height as he began to back away and out of the lamplight, leaving with his final words of warning. “Stay away from the mage, and I shall stay away from you.”

Message well and truly received he turned to leave, smug with his effective little use of fear to reign back in the boundary pushing he no longer felt up to tolerating.  
“At least our power don’t stop us from touching people we care about.”

He stopped dead. Smith’s voice rang clear in the still midnight air, words slowly sinking in. What did he-. How did he-. He turned swiftly, clothes flapping violently at the motion. His eyes went wild, how did he know about his overpowering lightning problem. How did he know he couldn’t touch anyone. How did he know about-.

Su. His sweet, darling Su. Dead. Gone. Lost forever. All his fault. The world span around him, morphing into faded memories now crystal clear. It had been an accident; he never meant to harm her. He never meant. Never meant. He desperately tried to regain control over himself, to battle away the long since repressed and locked away images of losing her. He could feel the air crackling with electricity, summoned to him through his explosion of uncontrolled emotion. 

Through the haze he could see the garbage court scurrying to safety, fearing what their foolish member had unleashed with his piercing words. With one swift motion upwards Kirin propelled himself into the air, seeking the comfort only the dark clouds above could give him. With the aid of the charged skies and cooling rain he began to slowly rebuild the shield protecting himself from his past, he wasn’t ready to deal with it yet, he just wasn’t ready.

Only when daybreak came did he allow himself to return to his shop with bleary eyes, seeking something to soothe his aching heart. A clearer head brought with it a sense of control, shaken though he still was. He knew not how the court had come by the knowledge, and he intended to find out so he could silence the source permanently. They may not have fully known the whole story he thought, maybe only of his lightning powers. Maybe he had jumped to conclusions with his momentary lapse of composure. 

Either way, he would get his revenge on the court he vowed, one way or another.


	4. Never Mix Flux and Chemistry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Most of this is shameless domestic Honeyphos fluff and I regret nothing. It also becomes clear that Strife is a naive little nerd that constantly gets himself into trouble.

Mealtimes were always a hectic business in the Xephos household. The kitchen wasn’t built to accommodate 4 members comfortably, not with the clutter of culinary items Xeph insisted be strewn around in a heap he claimed was “organised”. Strife found it similar to a minefield, what with the chance the shiny piece of metal sticking haphazardly out between the plates could either be a fork or the carving knife used for slicing through the thick homemade loaves of slightly burnt bread. It was a risk that simply had to be taken when his poor flustered uncle was too busy trying not to set fire to the dinner than to carefully pack away the utensils. And it wasn’t as if Honeydew would volunteer to tidy up, not after working long hours at the blacksmiths.

“Alright now I just have to cook the vegetables and we’re done.” Xeph called over his shoulder, precariously balancing the cookbook he was using for reference and a handful of carrots in a bizarre juggling act. “Could you go and fetch Lalna and Nano from his room please, Will?”

The technomage looked up from his phone at the sound of his name, nodding quietly and pushing off the bar stool he had been perching on. His adopted cousin was, as always, holed up in his basement room with best friend Nano. The two were inseparable it seemed, which wouldn’t be such a problem if not for the tendency of mass destruction that occurred whenever they met up.

Strife recalled rather vividly the events that had transpired leading to Xephos’ strict “no flux in the house” policy. Unsurprisingly, mixing Lalna’s A-level chemistry knowledge with historically wild and unpredictable magic such as flux in the basement of one’s home was not a good idea. The resulting explosion had nearly demolished half the neighbourhood had Honeydew not quickly rushed in with his dwarven anti-cave-in wards.

He pushed down on the handle of the door and walked down the steps into the dimly lit room, waiting for his eyes to adjust as he listened to the frantic scramblings of the duo clearly up to no good. A red-faced Lalna popped out of the gloom, visibly relaxing to see Strife standing expectantly in the doorway and not a certain worrisome individual.

“Oh, hey Will,” He grinned cheerily, turning back to tidy away a jar containing a suspiciously purple gelatinous substance into a cupboard. “Watcha looking for?”

“Xeph sent me, dinner’s ready.” He peered around the shoulders of the blond, taking note of the scattered chemistry equipment and of the small figure of Nano helping to hide away the mage books. He personally thought Nano was quite interesting, in her own way. Flux was frowned upon by most as too dangerous and volatile to deal with, and so he held respect for someone who ignored the muttered whisperings with a head held high. She would always be welcome here at least, with Xeph’s understanding and kind-hearted nature.

“Shouldn’t you be more cautious with your experiments, after what happened the last time you used flu-“

“Shhhhhh Will he’ll hear you.” Lalna quickly cut him off, wiping his hands clean on his lab coat before hanging it on the hook by the door. “It’s fine, last time we just messed up the quantities. Besides, ‘Dew said we could carry on as long as Xeph doesn’t find out.”

Strife made an unconvinced sound before beginning to climb back up the stairs, not waiting for the others to follow him. Of course his uncle wasn’t aware; in the words of his partner, “what he doesn’t know can’t worry him.” To the technomage, it was a disaster waiting to happen. But as long as his attic room was safe he kept his mouth shut – it wasn’t his business.

When he made it back into the kitchen Honeydew had returned from work, face covered in a black coal-like substance. Strife appeared to have walked into the middle of a domestic, as Xeph tried desperately to wipe away the dust with a dish cloth as the dwarf profusely protested.

“Give over Xeph I don’t need you wiping my face like a kid!”

“Oh stop complaining and let me make you presentable for dinner.” With a roll of his eyes Strife moved to sit back on the stool he had occupied earlier, reserved to watching the scene unfold before him. Arguments such as these were common in the house, or “fuss wars” as he liked to call them. His uncle could be almost overbearing in his motherly ways, but they all knew it was because he cared. With a triumphant yell Honeydew snatched the cloth away and started to playfully whack Xeph in the sides with it, ignoring the cries for mercy with a devilish grin.

Lalna slipped into the stool besides his cousin as Nano made her way round the other side. He watched on amused for a second, gazing on fondly.

“Did dad try to clean him again?” Strife nodded with a grim smile, folding his arms as the blond snorted. “You’d think by now he’d have just given up trying, he’s never going to let him do it.”

“They’re both stubborn idiots is why,” Nano responded whilst passing cutlery down to the others, along with glasses of water. “Wish they could save it for the bedroom I’m hungry.”

“Nano!” Lalna nudged her lightly with a groan, trying to suppress the grin. She stuck her tongue out in response.

“You were all thinking it don’t lie.” A clatter of pans brought their attention back to the bickering couple, Xeph clutching onto the counter gasping for air as Honeydew finally stopped his relentless cloth attack. Wiping a hand across his forehead Strife’s uncle pushed back the locks of hair that had fallen into his eyes, smiling affectionately with glaring eyes at his partner. It was only when Lalna coughed politely that the two seemed to notice they were not alone.

Xephos blushed and tried to regain his composure, turning away to begin serving up the food. With a smug grin Honeydew slumped down on the stool closest to the stove, silently stroking Xeph’s hand in a loving way as his plate was presented to him, a twinkle in his eyes. Strife observed the exchange with faint curiosity – he never quite understood how they could go from play fighting to smiling like lovesick teenagers in a second, but then he supposed therein lied his answer. Inside the pair simply were two lovesick teenagers, in spirit at least. He suppressed a snort at the thought, whatever made them happy; each to their own as the saying goes.

Soon they were all tucking into the homemade meal, a carefully planned out mix of meats and vegetables that his uncle always meticulously made sure would provide the best nutritional value without costing too much of the flavour. Conversation flowed easily between the five of them, although Strife had no particular love for such small talk and opted to remain mostly out of it. It seemed inefficient to talk about the weather when trying to eat food.

“Are you going out again this Tuesday, Will?” Xephos asked cheerfully, trying to include his nephew in the dinnertime chat. Whilst he appreciated the sentiment, the technomage only barely managed to hold back the huff of mild irritation.

“Yes, it’s part of my routine.”

“What is it you do again? Still searching for technomages?”

“No, I found a teacher, I visit him and we discuss technomancy.” Honeydew’s face lit up at his words, mirrored by Xeph’s.

“That’s great to hear!” The dwarf exclaimed happily. “We knew you couldn’t be the only whiz kid in the city!” Strife frowned slightly.

“Well he’s not technically a technomage. I don’t think. He just has knowledge of it.”

“So who is he then? Does he have a name? Maybe we know him!” His uncle always asked too many questions, always needed to know all the details. But he could never phrase them in such a way that didn’t mean being bombarded with words, and Strife had to pause for a second to process them all before he could respond.

“He goes by Kirin; I don’t know his full name.” The room went uncharacteristically quiet. The pause threw him off and confused he looked up to meet the widened eyes of Xephos, had he said something offensive by accident? His sentence had seemed normal enough. He looked across at Honeydew in hope of a clue as to what was wrong; only to find him mouthing what appeared to be a Dwarven curse word. “Uncle..?” He probed cautiously.

“Don’t say his name in this house ever again, the wards might not withhold if you do.” The tone was almost impossible to read. He couldn’t tell if his uncle was angry, or frightened, or disappointed. The look on his face however, spelt fear. Strife frowned, confused as to what was so bad about his newfound teacher that he shouldn’t be allowed access into the house. He seemed an intelligent and friendly man to him.

“That fae is not to be trusted.” Honeydew added as his hand reached out to squeeze Xephos’, who smiled gratefully in return. “He causes nothing but trouble to all he comes into contact with.”

Fae? How could Kirin be fae? Fae were slippery, dangerous creatures never to be bargained with, everyone with even the slightest magical knowledge knew that. Surely the kind tea-enthusiast couldn’t be of that sort of magic. There was no denying he was powerful, Strife could sense his aura radiating off in waves whenever he was near, but it didn’t feel like he was in peril.

“Please Will, for your own sake; never go back to that shop.” Xephos’ voice sounded strained, almost begging. Strife looked up at him before averting his gaze, not wanting to see the look of distress on his uncle’s face.

He nodded slightly, just enough that it would suffice to please him without, in his own mind, being an affirmative to the plea. He avoided lying wherever possible, but in this case it seemed best to keep him in the dark. He didn’t want to upset him, but at the same time was not prepared to give up the one chance to truly master his powers – not after already coming so far. Logically this was the best course of action to take.

Thankfully Xephos seemed to accept this as an answer and smiled wistfully at his nephew, before quickly diverting the conversation back to lighter topics of blacksmithing and overdue chemistry homework. Strife contentedly sat quiet for the remainder of the meal, only half listening to the feeble excuses of Lalna about his school work.

 

The technomage had no reason to leave the house until the following weekend, finding himself in need of more cables for his electronic equipment. His current connections were embarrassingly inefficient for transferring currents, even with his magical tweaking. There was only so far he could improve the overworked metal fibres.

He left a brief note on the kitchen counter for his uncle to save the frantic worried texts bound to flood his phone and mind if he left unannounced, before grabbing his jacket and heading out the door. The winter air was bitterly cold and with a frown he pulled the fabric closer around his face, breath visible in front of him.

He considered trying to borrow a little of the heat generated from within the power cables overhead but dismissed it quickly – the last thing he wanted to do was bring a live electrical line down on his head in public. Whilst he was sure he could channel the energy into the ground safely the idea of drawing attention to himself surviving being stuck unscathed was not something he wanted to deal with right now. Or ever, for that matter, he was a prideful man. No, he would bear through the cold just fine; there was plenty of time to master the skill.

He was too busy wrapped up in his own thoughts that he failed to realise the city had swept him down an alley he did not recognise. The sudden stillness and lack of people alerted him to the fact and blinking he looked around, coming to a halt by a pile of tattered cardboard boxes. Something felt oddly familiar about the place, an aura he couldn’t quite lock his memories onto.

When three maniacally grinning figures stepped out towards him he remembered why. Not these guys again. He was in no mood for cheesy pickup lines, he wasn’t going anywhere with someone who looked like they wanted to eat him alive.

“Fancy seeing you here sunshine.” Mused the man sandwiched between his two taller companions, a slight step ahead of them. If he recalled right he was referred to by the others as Trott. “Not many wander into our alleys willingly.”

“Your alley?” Strife started, warily tightening his mental shield around him for a sense of protection. “I didn’t even mean to walk in here; I don’t even remember doing it.” Although now that he thought about it, he could feel the boundary of control warped here in the murky darkness lying before him. Instinctively he took a step back to distance himself from this unknown threshold before inwardly cursing at his stupidity. 

He could see the calculating eyes watching him glint at his movement, slinking closer in eerie synchronicity. He had shown weakness by backing away, practically admitting submission before them. Eyes flickering between the three he straightened his back to rise to his full height, trying to reassert himself.

“Maybe you missed us mate, wanted to take us up on our offer ey?” The overenthusiastic man in the leather jacket always sounded as if he had trouble holding back his words. Smith was his name Strife believed, and something about the hungry edge of his grin was deeply unsettling. He immensely disliked being looked at as if he was about to become a meal.

“Will you at least consider what we can offer?” The softness of the voice caught him off guard, head jerking to the dark haired stone-like entity. There was no mistaking this one was a gargoyle with the pitiful excuse of a glamour surrounding him, even if it was strange he had no building to protect. What fate must have driven him to associate with the likes of the others was a mystery to the technomage, one he didn’t particularly want to know the details of. “Just listen to all your options.”

“What options? Options to what? What are you even talking about, and for that matter how do you even know me!?”

“Oh c’mon Will you’re talk of the town mate everyone wants a piece of your goods.” Strife looked on confused; sure technomancy was rare but not enough to be a topic of debate among the cities magic folk. Well, that’s what he assumed Smith had meant by “goods”.

“We just don’t think it’s in your best interested to work under that fae hot shot,” Trott added, smile anything but friendly. No, that smile was not warm like Kirin’s, or kind like Xephos’. “He’s just using you for his own purposes.”

“That’s not true!” Strife blurted out defensively, taking offence at the accusation. Why was everyone so against him? Who WAS Kirin really, if not a helpful mage? He found himself becoming irritated at the level of mistrust he saw all around him. “He’s my teacher and I’d like to consider him my friend.” Smith snickered to himself, finding amusement it seemed from the declaration.

“He’s got you good hasn’t he, got you right in his claws just where he wants. Bet he’s told you all about how bad we are, am I right?” The blank expression on Will’s face similar to if he was listening to the ravings of a madman gave away his ignorance to who these strangers were, or there apparent relation to Kirin. There was an uncomfortable silence, a pause that seemed to last just too long as something changed in the atmosphere.

“He has told you who we are, right?” Trott’s voice was calm and collected, but there was something off in it that worried Strife. 

“No, I have no idea who you guys are, or why you want m-“

“Grab him before he can summon the fae bastard!”

Everything moved too fast. His senses were overwhelmed with sudden yells like battle cries as arms roughly took hold of his limbs, pinning them to his side as something cloth-like was shoved into his mouth. Desperately he struggled and tried to call out, magic frantically searching for some form of technology to lock onto and weaponise but coming up empty in his panic-stricken mind.

The three men wrestled with him, dragging him further into the alley and closer to where the borders met. Why were they doing this? Why did they wait until they knew he didn’t know them? What had Trott said, “Before he can summon the fae bastard”?

His mind raced with the answer in the midst of the struggle – that was it. They were afraid he was going to bring Kirin to their confrontation. For whatever reason they didn’t want to mess with him, they had waited until he was defenceless before moving. He kicked himself internally for thinking he was at any point safe in the situation, they had been waiting for him to slip up the moment he entered the alleyway. Now with his voice gagged he couldn’t speak his name, couldn’t alert anyone to his distress.

As the threshold drew nearer he fought harder but all to no avail, he was clearly outmatched in strength. With one last ditch move he closed his eyes, feeling the faint presence of the city in his mind trying to reconnect with him as he projected his thoughts as far as they could reach.

As his body slipped into unknown territory he screamed out to the circuitry and surrounding magic with all his mind:

KIRIN!!!


End file.
